When I hear a piano and a girl singing

I think of spring.

Petals open and dance in the wind.

Dotted lines move from flower

to flower,

delivering wordless messages.

I hear tiny wings

zipping against cloud blues.

Grassy hills smell of lemons and mint

tumbling head over heels.

I can see the wind and I speak into it.

The flower dust tells me.

I hope it carries the right words.

You should be here to share this

with me.